


grocery lists that just said you you you you all the way down

by artificially_intelligent



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Based on a Poem, F/M, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, basically i just think food is love, convenient that that's a tag, hoping i'm not tagging that wrong, i love you i want us both to eat well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificially_intelligent/pseuds/artificially_intelligent
Summary: based on the poem "our beautiful life when it's filled with shrieks", by christopher citro. (linked in the notes. please read the poem even if you don't read this fic, i just think it's really good.) READER/MC IS GENDER NEUTRAL, and referred to with they/them pronouns.basically a fic about the love inherent in the gesture of sharing your food with someone else. small and sweet, like a clementine :-)
Relationships: Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	grocery lists that just said you you you you all the way down

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled with Shrieks](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/729132) by Christopher Citro. 



> https://www.rattle.com/our-beautiful-life-when-its-filled-with-shrieks-by-christopher-citro/
> 
> please read the poem even if you don't read this fic it's SO good. the title of this fic is taken from there. also it's been a hot minute since i've actually written a fic and i wanted to make this longer but didn't immediately have anything to add. i might add more chapters in the future if i think of something, because this poem and concept in general have made a permanent little nest in my mind.
> 
> also i wrote this in one sitting so i may edit it later, idk. if you notice any errors, please let me know!

There’s this ache in his stomach, at his core, and it hasn’t gone away ever since he fell. Is it possible to be used to something and still be bothered by it? The emptiness hurts, it claws at him. He knows he’ll never be full, and still he does his best to quell the need. It’s a wonder even to him, then, the first time he offers his human an orange at lunch. Beel knows why he does it, though, he knows it’s simple. Knows it’s love. This hunger is so familiar to him, he knows its pain well. He hates the idea of them suffering it too.  
Beelzebub picks up a few spilled-blood oranges in each hand, and watches their hands, only big enough to hold one, as they unwrap a candy bar. It’s just one of many times he feels his hulking frame emphasized next to them, just one of many times he remembers how fragile their kind can be. He peels an orange easily, cutting its skin with a claw and prying it from sweet, segmented flesh without breaking it. The demon holds the orange out to them.  
“Here,” he tells them. “They can be kind of tough to peel.” The smile they give him in return is as sweet as the fruit, and almost as satisfying.  
(His love for them only grows when they bring him a snack the next day as thanks.)

Beel starts taking them with him to different restaurants, revisiting old favorites or trying out new ones. He memorizes their orders, their tastes. After a while, he finds himself evaluating menus not only by his own standards, but by theirs as well. The lists of food take on another light at times, when he considers what his human can or can’t eat, what they do or don’t like. Each new dish is a new opportunity for connection. Around the family dinner table, he learns what dishes and condiments to pass to them before they even have to ask. It’s a quiet gesture, one he never draws attention to, but it’s there, and steady, and reliable. It’s an I know you, it’s an I love you, it’s an I want you to be happy.

He thinks often about oranges, mandarins, clementines. It seems they’re meant to be shared. He wonders if that was intentional, if they really were made with love in mind. The demon takes to storing them in his bag along with his other snacks, just in case. He sits next to his human at lunch, after school, during club activities. Any breaks become an opportunity. The dusty orange stains on his fingers become a comfort. He splits the fruit and gives them half. Again, and again, and again.

It’s Beel who insists on preparing their meal on their birthday. He argues that he knows exactly what they like, and he knows the most about food out of any of his brothers. They all worry he’ll eat it all before it’s even finished, and while he knows it’s a reasonable concern, he can’t help but take some offense to it. The best gift he can think of for his human is this meal, and he really does want to give them his best. Eventually everyone agrees to it, under the condition that Satan is allowed to supervise and make sure the meal gets made. Beel doesn’t let him touch anything; he wants this to be all him. Of course, as any good cook would, he samples things here and there to make sure they’re coming along well, but he keeps himself from eating any more than that.  
The look on their face, as always, makes it worth it. (And it’s especially nice when he finally gets to dig in next to them.)


End file.
